Be my Valentine
by Mel6
Summary: Fluffy Valentine sap, Remus/Harry centric, Would you be their Valentine??


Another Valentines fic, I'm sure you're all sick of them by now.  Done especially for the Remus and Harry list for Valentines Day, I hope they enjoy it.  I hope you all enjoy it, remember to review.

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Be my Valentine by Mel (lerain@dingoblue.net.au)

Bunch of fluff and sap, POV of Remus.

Harry and Remus pairing of course, mentions Snape and Sirius and Ron and Hermione.

Belongs to JKR, and in my closet, I've just borrowed then ^_^

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Be my Valentine

Valentines Day has never meant much to me.  Just another day on my calendar, just another moment in time that if I were to blink I would surely miss it.  And often I have, as the night could come filled with the light of a full moon and I would confine myself from others on the one day when you should not be confined.  But unlike others who would leave their dorms on those Valentine's nights to be with another, I was shut up in a shack, pacing to and fro in my werewolf form.  I would wake the following morning, cold and shivering, often on the floor and naked, an embarrassing side effect of the change I had to be naked when it happened or my clothes would rip.

After the first few years I gave up on any enjoyment of Valentines Day.  I would still smile at James' horrid attempts at poetry for Lily and Sirius choice of flowers for his latest conquest, male or female.  Even Peter would get giddy towards that time of year, before he turned his back on us.  But I forever remained dead to it.  I never had a girlfriend, or boyfriend, to give flowers or chocolate to.  To write bad poetry for or hug them and tell them I love them.  It never truly bothered me until now.

Now as I walk through Daigon Alley with red hearts and streamers floating everywhere.  People carried flowers and chocolates, held hands and shared kisses with loved ones.  The worst is the smells.  The blossoms fill my noes with their heavy scents and the pheromones basically float through the air, assaulting me, reminding me again and again that I am, in fact, alone.  I hate it, and for a second I feel the hair rise on the back of my neck rise with my hackles, a growl beginning to rumble out of my belly.

It takes me completely by surprise and I swallow the sound before it erupts from my mouth.  Still, I push my way through the crowd, most unlike my normal meek nature and push my way into the first shop I come across.  I close the door behind me and lean against it.  The sounds and smells are still there, but dimmer in this place, I sigh gratefully and look around at my hidey-hole.  It's a library, I think for a moment, full of old and well-loved books whose scent I know almost as well as my own.  But as I look closer I realise I am mistaken.  They are old record books, full of statistics dating back an eternity in time.

There is a counter hidden in the corner, one witch sitting there, writing slowly with a quill, the smell of the thick ink wafts to my noes and I breath it in deeply.  I catch my reflection in a mirror across the way, my long blonde hair sparkling with silver as my golden eyes do.  My cheeks are flushed from the effort to get away from the source of my grumpiness and there's almost an animalistic glint to the light that reflects in my eyes.  I repress a snort, as the last thought is most understandable; I am, after all, an animal at the very bases of my core, a werewolf.

I might not look it, but I am in fact into my forties.  It is perhaps the only blessing of this curse, if it could even be called a blessing, is that my life is considerably longer then a normal wizard or even Muggle.  As such I age different as well, though I may be forty, I look no more then twenty-two, perhaps three.  The fact I am so short does not help matters.

"Remus Lupin," a soft voice suddenly commanded my attention, "you have not changed."

Yes I have, I thought rebelliously, there was a time when I would let no one take my by surprise.  But you did, it must come from working with dragons for a while, you learn to walk softer, mask your scent and breath with the world around you.  It will possibly be a constant irritation for me.

I try to hide the surprise, but I'm sure you noticed, you always had your mother's attention for detail.  I turn from the mirror to face you.  I wish I could say you have not changed, but you have and it bowls me away.  Your raven hair is much longer then what it was, hanging gorgeously loosely to your shoulder blades.  It's a mess still, I'm glad to see some things have not changed with you.  Your clothes are old worn leather, no robes for you today and you've grown, you tower over me, but I knew you would.  You're so much like your father.  Your joyful emerald eyes shine with amusement as you watch from behind your rounded glasses, a smile quirked on your lips.  You carry three heavy record books in your arms the old scar remains on your forehead.

"Harry Potter," I incline my head in greeting, the name rolling from my tongue as easily as it did all those years ago.  I have not seen you since I taught at Hogwarts in your third year.  I had not been able to bring myself too, it was too much to see you day by day, the perfect blend of your mother and father tugged at my heart until you owned it.  That was why I left, not because of the abusing letters I would receive for teaching those children, but because I could not stand to stare in your trusting eyes and not have you for my own.

I do my best to press such thoughts from my head by taking a book from your arms and following you as you lead me to a table hidden far within the archives.  Possibly a bad move on my part as I watch the delicate sway of your hips.  This is most definitely not helping me control those urges I fought years ago.  I thought time had erased them… Obviously I was gravely mistaken.

"Join me Remus," you implore.  I find myself hard pressed to deny such a request when the invocation of my name from your lips sends shivers up my spine and turns my legs to jelly.  This is ridiculous, I child myself.  Never the less I quickly take the bench across from you before my legs give out.  You put your chin in your hands and look across at me with a smile that I could never deny.  "It's been a long time hasn't it? What have you been doing with yourself?"

Trying to forget, I think, instead saying.  "Russia, working on a cure."  I don't need to say anymore and you nod in understanding.  I have always looked for a cure for my problem.  "Snape has been a great help."

Again you nod, a smile lighting your face.  "He and Sirius moved in together last week."

I know, I want to say, I helped him pack his things.  But I don't, you would ask why I did not come to see you whilst I was in the neighbourhood.  And then I would not be able to answer.  But that does not matter, you're already talking again.

"And Hermione and Ron tie the knot next week.  They want you to be there for them, will you come?"

"If I can," I murmur, if I'm not already on the other side of the country.  "What are you doing, I thought you were in Romania, working with Charlie and his dragons?"

You give me a funny look and I realise that I let loose that I was keeping a watch on you.  Not the smartest move 'Professor'.

"Research for the ministry, I've had enough to do with dragons for the moment."

"Research?"  Now I'm curious.  Getting Harry to do research was like pulling teeth and you grimace as you remember.

"This is interesting research, and I'm happy to help out a friend."

Now I look at the books on the table, but their covers give away no clues of what they're filled with.  Harry opens one, flipping through to a marked page before turning it around to face me.  The image of a large, wolf like creature baying at the full moon arrests my attention.  I know it, hell, I am *it* at the full moon.

"Werewolves," I breathe, scarcely aware I'm even speaking.  I look up into his green eyes.  "You're the one who's been helping Snape with all his research!"

You nod, smiling with delight.  My mouth falls open and I'm hardly sure what to say.  For once my knowledge fails me and my eyes fall back to the book.  I would not have even known you had taken the seat next to me if I had not smelled you move.  I almost jump, startled again, you are so close you make my hairs stand on end.

"Happy to help out a friend," you whisper, knowing my ears will pick up every sound you make.  "And the one I love."

All my protests are cut off as your lips envelop mine.  For seconds I panic, this is not real, this can't be real.  Harry Potter is kissing me.

The world around me collapses at that very thought, only to be remade with all the wonder I can muster.  Harry Potter is kissing *me*.

If I had any reservations before, they are gone like the wind as my arms slipped around his neck.  I can feel him smile against my lips and I long for nothing more then to wipe it from his face.  Instead I busy my hands, running them up his shoulders, tracing the muscles beneath the leather, and up into his hair.  I tug at the loose black strands, attempting to pull his face closer to my own.  The smile gone from his lips I feel his tongue dancing lightly on my bottom lip, begging entrance.  I cannot, would not, deny him anything and I open my mouth to the questing tongue, meeting it with my own shy one.

This is my first kiss.  I almost gasp as the realisation hits me.  I have never been kissed before this day.  As though feeling my realisation through my lips Harry holds me tighter, deepening the kiss.  He lifts me from where I sit, pulling me onto his lap, I don't pull away as his arms encircle my waist.  He tastes of summer and danger, smells suspiciously like a dragon but I can't seem to get enough of him.  And now my need to breathe over takes everything else and I pull back from his lips, panting softly.  And he smiles at me.

Everything clicks into place as I look into his green eyes.  I love him, I always have, it just has taken me so long to see that he loves me as well.  I can see it mirrored in his eyes.

And I do the only thing I can.  "Be my Valentine?"


End file.
